Heritage
by shieldmaidenofthecarribean
Summary: Estel has just been told who he is, so naturally wants to know more about his history. He leaves Rivendell, but is he mature enough to keep his identity a secret? First in "Heir of Isildur" series.


Part 1: Aragorn, son of Arathorn

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. J. R. R. Tolkien created those and I do not want any credit for his work. Just for this story, which is for fun and not profit.

A/N: I wrote this story for the Teithco contest: "Growing Up" under another penname.

Part 1: Aragorn, son of Arathorn

"What? Wait… that's not in the rules, I'm sure!" cried a fair voice. "You had better start running, Estel, before Elladan gets you back!" said another very similar voice.

After a short pause, there came a third voice, much younger than the other two. "Yes, Elrohir, I just might."

Lord Elrond could hear splashing water and clinging of swords outside the window of his study. He shook his head. Just when he thought his own twins were growing up, along came Estel, who helped them unlearn everything they had learned in the past thousand years. But then Estel himself was beginning to grow and mature. Old enough that in fact….

"And _that_ is fair, Elladan?" demanded Estel from outside.

"All's fair in love and war," said Elladan.

But then there was a bigger splash, and footsteps running inside, slamming the door. _Splaush, Splaugh, Splaugh_ went the sound of wet shoes approaching the study. Elrond turned around to see Estel standing in the front door, covered in water and red spots that looked suspiciously like the raspberries they grew in the garden outside.

"It is Elladan's fault," said the boy simply.

"Who did what first?" asked Elrond.

"Elladan pushed me into the berry bush. I poured water from the birdbath onto him. He tried to push me into the lake, but he got completely submerged."

"And what were you doing before all of that?" asked Elrond.

"Fencing," said Estel.

Just then Elladan and Elrohir came running in. Elrohir was suppressing laughter at Elladan who had a piece of bird droppings strategically placed on his forehead. He looked pissed. "Ada, can I borrow Estel for a few minutes? He has an appointment with the lake this afternoon."

"Now boys, think of a peaceful option," said Elrond. "Please, apologize and clean up. How old are all of you again?"

"Sixteen," said Estel.

"One thousand nine hundred seventeen last March," said the twins together.

"Well," said Elrond looking at his biological sons, "start acting like it, please."

The three beings bowed in respect to the Lord of Rivendell and left. Elrond was deep in thought again, watching Estel put the birdbath where it belonged. The boy was growing up. Was he old enough to know the truth? When the young human was inside, Elrond had noticed a slight stipple beginning to appear on his chin. Beards were not an attractive feature on men, but it was a sign that the little boy was growing up. Elrond continued to watch Estel.

He would talk with the boy's mother.

Estel once again found himself in the lake, but this time it was his own choice. Who would have thought that bees would be attracted to smashed raspberry on a teenage boy?

"I told you, Estel, you are a magnet for trouble," said Elrohir.

"No, I am not a magnet!" cried Estel indignantly, "I just spend too much time with Elladan."

Elladan gave him a teasing look. "You know, Estel, I heard bees absolutely adore blueberries!" he said, walking close to the bush.

"You wouldn't…"

"Estel!" called Elrond.

Estel turned around. Lord Elrond never called him like this before, not with the look he had on his face. It was a grave look. Like a death sentence that everybody knew was coming but it wasn't real until it came around. He turned to the twins who looked as if they knew exactly what was going to happen, and were anxious about it.

The boy ran up to the house and met his foster father. In recent years, the elf hadn't felt too much like a father to the boy because he was beginning to accept that they were not related. But there was still a special place for him in Estel's heart.

"What's wrong, Lord Elrond?" he asked.

Elrond looked at him and gave him a grave look. "Let's walk. I have something I need to talk to you about."

"I already know how babies are made, you know," said Estel blushing a little.

"No not that," said Elrond quickly. "Something else."

A few awkward minutes passed by as they walked through the hall. Estel recognized it. It was the hall with the shards of Narsil, Isildur's blade. The very one that cut Sauron's hand. There was a portrait of it too.

"What do you know about history, Estel," asked Elrond.

"What part?" asked the boy.

"The overthrow of Sauron."

Estel thought for half a moment and continued. "In the year 3441 of the second age, there was a great battle. The free peoples of Middle Earth fought against Sauron the terrible. Just when things looked blackest, Isildur, son of Elendil and the heir to the throne of Gondor cut Sauron's hand. Somehow, that defeated the greatest enemy Middle Earth has ever known."

Elrond nodded. Estel prided himself in his knowledge. That had come straight out of one of his textbooks. They walked a little further in silence, until they reached the sword and the painting. Elrond walked up to the sword and grabbed the hilt. "Estel, this sword is old. Very old. I remember seeing it in action, and look forward to seeing it once again."

Estel was confused. "But Lord, when will you see it again? You would have to find an heir of Isildur first."

Elrond paused, put down the sword, and put his hand in his pocket. Estel didn't miss the gesture. "Now," continued the elf, "I will tell you another history, a short history, but you need to know this before… you just need to know."

Estel nodded. "What, where, when, and why?" he asked.

The elf lord sat down on the bench nearby, and Estel followed suit. "It is not that old, and not too far from here. Sauron may have been dethroned, but his minions still live. The captain of those creatures has also been searching for heirs of Isildur and the… well their families."

"The Witch-king of Angmar?"

"The same. Well, after years of searching, he found them. He sent his spies and troops to destroy them all. He nearly succeeded. He personally destroyed Arathorn, the heir. But two people escaped."

"Who?" asked Estel. He had heard a lot about the Witch-king, what a menace he was. Anybody to escape him must have been very brave and very wise.

"A woman and her infant. The infant was the last heir of Isildur: Aragorn. His name was Aragorn."

"Well, what happened to Aragorn?" asked Estel.

Elrond paused and took his hand out of his pocket. "His mother brought him here, to Rivendell, and I have been as a father to him for the past sixteen years." He held out his hand and in it was a ring.

Estel was shocked. "Me? Aragorn?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes. Your true name is Aragorn. Your mother brought you here to save your life." He looked at the ring and put it in the boy's hand. "The ring or Barahir. It belongs to you, now, Aragorn son or Arathorn."

Part 2: I'm a Man Now

Estel, or Aragorn, sat up in his room, deep in thought. It was impossible, but here he was. Elrond himself had told him, so it couldn't be a lie. It couldn't be a dream because he could feel the ring on his finger. He really was the baby in the story. He really did get away from the Witch-king himself. He had experienced all of that in the short story Elrond had told him.

Elrond kept this information from him because he wanted to keep the little Estel safe. But now, Elrond trusted him with that information. It made Aragorn feel important. It made him feel powerful, and grown-up. Elrond trusted him with this information because he was a man now.

Estel lay down on his bed. There were still many questions unanswered. Where any of his other kin alive? How would he get to Gondor? Most importantly (to him), how would he become king? He was old enough to know who he was, so he was definitely old enough to rule a country.

His mind made up, Aragorn sat up and walked to his door. Wait, he would need clothing and other things with him, wouldn't he? He walked over to his closet and put on his boots. Estel stuffed a cloak and another shirt in the bag. Then, he grabbed his sword.

"Estel?" said a voice.

The boy turned around. It was his mother, Gilraen. Suddenly, he felt a surge of unexplained anger. But that was just it. Nothing was explained. "That's not my name. And you _knew_! What else do you know? Are you _really_ my mother?"

Gilraen looked down, and Aragorn felt sorry for hurting her. But he did really want to know the truth.

"I assure you, Aragorn, I am your mother." She smiled. "I remember giving birth to you. It was one of the happiest days of my life."

Aragorn sat down on his bed. "One of?"

She sat down next to him. "The other was the day I married your father."

"Who was he? I never knew anything about him. Every time I asked, you have said you will tell me later. Well I think now is a damn good time!" said Aragorn.

Gilraen's eyes were filled with tears. Aragorn looked down, deeply ashamed. But he didn't want to apologize, his pride wouldn't allow him. "Yes, I know. I will tell you all you want to know. What do you want to know?"

Estel stopped short. What did he want to know about his true father? "Everything! What did he look like? What kind of man was he?"

Gilraen smiled and her eyes seemed to travel to the past. "Tall, stern, but very kind-hearted. He would learn from his mistakes and admit them. He was very tall, and handsome. In fact, he looked a lot like you. You have his hair, his eyes, and many other facial features. I can picture him next to you right now and nobody could mistake you two for father and son." She paused. "That is why we didn't tell anybody. Not even you. If word got out and reached the wrong people, they would find you. If it was the same people who murdered your father… and they saw you… there would be no mistake…" and she broke down into tears.

Estel hugged his mother. "It's okay, mother. Nobody knows where I am. I am okay. I'm… I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Gilraen hugged her son back. But then she saw the bag with clothes and the sword. "But what were you doing?"

"Oh, I'm going away, on a little trip."

"With who?"

"Alone." Gilraen didn't look pleased, so Aragorn continued. "I want to know who I am, mom. Who my kin are. I want to find them. I would also like to visit Minas Tirith if I can."

Gilraen still looked worried. "I am not so sure about this plan of yours, my son. You are still young…."

"People younger than me have traveled alone before. Besides, the town of Csenesville is not far south of here, and I am bound to find some kin there. All I need to do is look for smelly men in cloaks!"

"But the other young people are not hunted boys!"

Aragorn flinched slightly at the title. "They don't hunt what they don't believe exists. I'm going, mother. I've made up my mind."

Gilraen stayed on the bed. "May the grace of the Valar be with you," she whispered.

"You're doing what?" said Elrond. He raised his eyebrows at Aragorn. He hated it when Elrond did that.

"I'm going to Csenesville to find some of my own kin, learn about them, and maybe even travel to Minis Tirith."

Elrond shook his head. Aragorn knew he should have expected this kind of reaction, but he didn't. "Please, Lord Elrond. It'll only take a couple of days at most, and I might not even go to Minis Tirith!"

"The answer is no. I will not allow you to just uproot and leave hours after you know that you are related to a king long dead!"

"Why?"

Elrond stopped. Aragorn realized what the problem was. His heritage.

"Nobody will know who I am. I promise. Ada?"

Elrond gripped the windowsill. Estel knew this would work. It had to work. If it didn't, he would just sneak out at night.

Elrond turned around. "On one condition." Estel listened. "You will tell _nobody_ your true name, heritage, or anything about you."

"Absolutely," replied Aragorn quickly.

Elrond nodded, not quite satisfied. "Alright. You have my permission to leave."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," said Aragorn. "I will be back in a couple of days."

Aragorn took a few steps before he heard his foster father's voice. "Estel? Be careful."

Estel turned around, nodded, and walked away.

Elrond sat down. It was only in human nature to pick up and leave when they got older. He should have known it would happen. The problem was, Elrond had done the one thing he'd sworn not to do when he took Estel in as another son. He'd grown attached.

"But no matter," he said to himself, "I will give him a days start, but then I will send Elladan and Elrohir after him. Nothing will happen to him." But in his heart, he was not so confident.

Aragorn walked away with nothing but the sack on his back. He was proud of himself. Yes, he was finally going out on his own. He was no longer the child that had to be brought in by his mother for his own protection. He was a man, and could look after himself. He was a wild man, who could go for weeks without civilization!

Part 3: Scenesville

It took Aragorn three days to get to Scenesville. He was exhausted, and ready to be … anywhere with a bed. He especially longed to be at home, in Rivendell where Elrond's cook, Lithivel, made the best breakfast. It was too kill for, but Estel thought he might actually kill for it if he spent too much more time out here.

His aching legs finally carried him into the first inn he saw: The Drunken Dwarf. Maybe not the most pleasant title, but it looked like it could have a bed. Estel walked inside to the front desk and rang the bell.

Immediately a man came. He didn't look too friendly with his tanned skin, black hair, and muscles. But what frightened Estel most where the man's eyes. They looked… they looked like something was there that should not be.

"Evening," he said in a gruff voice.

"Hello," said Estel as his voice cracked. It hadn't done that in years. "I was looking for a room to stay?"

The man looked around. "You all by yourself, boy?"

Estel didn't want to answer. But he had to. "Yes," he said. At that moment somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew he should have lied.

The man nodded. "Room for one, on the third floor. Number six, six, six, mister."

Estel took his key and left. But he heard the man one more time. "Oh, happy hour starts in 'bout thirty minutes, if ya' want to join us."

Aragorn walked up to his bedroom and lay down on the bed. Maybe this place wasn't such a good idea after all. Oh well, now that he was here, he should start looking for other… what did Elrond call them… rangers? They couldn't be too hard to find. How many old men in cloaks could there be in a small town? And didn't the man say happy hour was approaching? No real man would miss that! Aragorn had never drunk anything stronger than water-down wine at Elrond's house, but he was a man now! Real men could drink a beer or two!

He got up off of the bed and walked towards the door. But then he remembered his ring! He had nearly forgotten that! He slipped his precious heirloom on his finger. Aragorn had forgotten his adopted father's warning about not telling anyone about his true identity.

He was sitting in the room. He had no cloak, no hood, and no other such way to hide his identity. Not that he truly needed it. Everybody in town knew that he was not one to be reckoned with. They did not know his employer, but they did know not to mess with him.

He looked at the door as a boy of maybe fifteen? Sixteen? No older than seventeen entered. This boy looked familiar, but where? Had he seen him before? Had he seen someone the boy was related to? As his eyes examined the young person, he noticed a ring. No, it was not possible! To make sure, he moved closer.

Aragorn ordered some of the house brew and just sat alone by the bar. He couldn't see any men who looked like they were rangers. There was no one who fit the description. No one in here smelled worse than he did right now.

"Say, boy, what's your name? Not seen you 'round these parts," said a man. He looked friendly enough.

"I am Aragorn," said Aragorn.

"Lombarth. Where you from? I work the ol' mill 'bout a mile down. All the lads come there, but not you."

"I come from… I just travel around," he said.

"You one of 'em rangers?" asked Lombarth quietly.

Aragorn nodded. "Yes, but I have lost my party. You haven't seen any here, have you?"

"No, none of them are foolish to come 'round here anymore. Not since _his_ spies have started coming around here."

"Who's he?" asked Aragorn as he got his drink. He took a large sip. HOLY CRAP! That stuff tasted horrible!! He nearly spat it out, but didn't want to make a complete fool of himself in front of the entire bar.

"Nobody knows, really," said the miller. "All we know is he's more shadow than human. Most rangers who stayed here disappeared in the night and were never heard from again."

"I'm a little too old for ghost stories," said Aragorn as he finished his drink.

"These ain't no ghost stories, Aragorn, these are real."

"All right, I'd like some ale," said Aragorn. He hadn't tried that, but had seen his brothers drink it (when Elrond was not around).

Lombarth shrugged and looked around. "Stringer! Paroth! Over here!" he called to two other men, who he obviously knew. Then he turned to Aragorn. "These here are Stringer and Paroth. They both farm for a living. This is Aragorn."

Paroth examined the boy. "Who is your sire, Aragorn?"

"Arathorn," said Aragorn without thought. He had nearly finished his drink and the alcohol was beginning to get to his still maturing body.

"Wait a moment," said Stringer, "I know that name. Wasn't that the captain ranger?"

"Yes," said Aragorn proudly, "and heir of Isildur! And here," he said producing his finger, "is the ring of Barahir."

All of the older men stared in awe. Aragorn felt proud of himself, and his heritage. That feeling encouraged him to order another ale.

He sat a few chairs over, and could not believe his either his luck or his misfortune. The heir of Isildur lived. Somehow that woman had survived in the woods. Alone, even after his employer killed her husband. He could see the ring that was missing from their tent nearly fourteen years ago.

He remembered his employer's rage when the ring and the rest of the family were missing. He was nearly killed then and there, but swore to find this boy and deliver him to the Witch-king. And here he was: not yet a man, and foolish enough to tell this much about him to the public. He would pay dear for his ignorance.

Aragorn felt proud of himself. Drinking and conversing with these grown men. But what was he really saying? His mouth was moving, words were coming out, but he couldn't grasp them. And what had the bartender just said? No matter, he would order another ale….

"Hey, kid! Bars closed for the night. Don't you know?"

"Yes sir, of course know," he could almost tell what those words were, but they were slurred together.

"See you around, Aragorn," said each of the farmers as they left.

Aragorn raised his hand and walked away. BANG! His head hit the post of the door. "I'm okay, I'mokay!" he said quickly and went through the door correctly this time. The world was spinning. What was wrong with this hotel late at night? Was it an earthquake? The innkeeper walked up to him, holding a cup. What did he say? The innkeeper had to repeat it.

"Here, boy, drink this."

Aragorn accepted and took a big gulp. This was strong coffee! It was warm and made his tongue burn. Suddenly, the room stopped moving.

"Now, you get your little ass upstairs now, before this wears off. An' don't let me catch you downstairs 'til morning!"

Aragorn walked up the stairs and put his key into the door. Even with the coffee to help keep focus, it was a hard task. His hand just wouldn't go into the door! Finally, he got it in, and he heard a noise.

"Damn it!" cried a man, following a crash.

Aragorn turned around and saw a slightly blurred shape of a man. He was crumpled up on the floor and obviously drunk. If possible, he had more to drink than Aragorn. The man held up a finger, which was shaking, and pointed it at Aragorn. "You, lad! Over 'ere! Can you help me get this door in the key?"

Aragorn sighed. It had been hard enough for him, and he wanted to get to bed before the inn started spinning again. But this man needed help and Estel was always taught to help the less fortunate.

"Here, I'll help," said Estel. His words were still slurred. He wondered why. The man handed him the key and Aragorn tried to fit it in the door. It was harder than last time.

The man suddenly seemed eager for a conversation. "So," he said, his voice still slurred, "you really the heir of Isildur?"

"Yes," said Aragorn proudly as he dropped the key.

"Ahh. Not much yet, are ye?"

"I'm a man now!" said Aragorn. He was a man, but he couldn't get the key in the door!

"Ye are, are ye? Well, ye can prove it to me. You want ta go on a huntin' trip 'morrow? Just the two of us men?"

"Sure," said Aragorn as he finally got the keys into the door. The lock turned fairly easy and the door opened. The man crawled in and Aragorn gave him his key.

The inn was beginning to get foggy again and was slowly spinning. Estel stumbled back into his own room and locked the door. He didn't remember his head hitting the pillow.

Inside his own room, he thought about what he'd accomplished. The young heir was ensnared in his trap now. There was no escape. Sure, he'd be kind to the boy at first, to gain his trust. But then, then the fun would begin. The heir would have quite a headache in the morning that he wouldn't envy, but that would be the least of his troubles….

Part 4: The False Ranger

He got up from his bed and quickly dressed in a tarnished, bloodstained cloak. He had managed to get enough blood out after he took it off the dead man, but there was still a little from where the arrow had pierced. If the boy wanted to find a ranger, that is what he would find.

"Oh my head!" Aragorn moaned. What had happened last night? The last thing he remembered was walking in… these men… what had he said? What had he done? Aragorn secretly vowed to himself never to drink that much ale again.

He opened his eyes, but the light hurt, and he shut them immediately. Did the drinks really have this much effect on him?

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Someone was knocking on his door.

"Oh God, no," he moaned.

"Rise and shine, Aragorn, you ready to go hunting today?"

"What?" murmured the young man. He opened his eyes, trying to annoy the pain, and forced his body out of bed. Estel trudged to the door and opened it. "Who are you?"

He was alert enough to see who this man was. He was wearing a tattered, dirty cloak and a messy outfit underneath. And he _smelled_ this must be….

"Are you a ranger?" Estel asked, in awe.

The man smiled, but there was something in it that Aragorn did not like. "Yes, I am. Siriband, son of Soribond, I am. And after our talk last night, I realize that you are Aragorn, son or Arathorn, and heir of Isildur himself?" Here Siriband gave a low bow.

Estel felt proud. "Excuse me, Siriband, but I do not remember any talk last night?"

Siriband laughed, but there was something dark behind it. But this man was a ranger, so Estel decided to ignore it. "Yes, you were as drunk as a dwarf when it took place, but it did. We decided we'd leave today for a hunting trip, remember?"

Aragorn shook his head.

"Oh, well, I suppose we should replay it again, at breakfast!" said Siriband.

Estel nodded and closed the door to put on his clothes. If he had agreed to go hunting with this man, it should be okay. But then again, he had done it when he was drunk. Should he really trust drunken instincts, if they even existed? It didn't matter. He would be gone a few days. Besides, this man was a ranger. Estel had no reason to disbelieve him yet. And if he could connect the boy to more of his kin, well Estel could then go back to Rivendell for a little rest.

"Well! Took you long enough!" said Siriband cheerfully.

Estel nodded and yawned.

"Still tired, are you?"

"Ye… no, not at all," Estel didn't want to admit he was maybe weaker than the older man.

Siriband shrugged. "Alright, if you say so!"

The two man ate breakfast in an awkward silence. Aragorn didn't know what to say, and Siriband didn't seem interested in talking. He, however, was observing the boy, that much was plain. A little more than Aragorn liked in fact. Was this some sort of test? Was he trying to figure out what type of game to hunt by what he ate? That must be it, Estel reasoned with himself. But deep down, Aragorn thought there might be something more sinister to this.

"Are you finished?" asked Siriband after Aragorn after the later took a last bite of his eggs.

"Yes. And you?" asked Aragorn.

"Quite," said the older man as he pushed his plate away. He snapped his fingers and one of the servers walked over. "We're done here," he snapped, "you can take away our plates now."

The server gave him a look of distaste but said nothing. Siriband looked at Estel, who didn't understand the rudeness he just saw. "You have to be direct, and immediate when you command, young Aragorn, or nobody will obey you."

Aragorn remembered what Lord Elrond told him when he was about thirteen. He could almost hear the elf lord's voice in his head saying: "You lead by example, and kindness. Then your people will be willing to follow you." What Siriband had just done was a direct contrast to what the young ranger had learned. It confused Estel.

Siriband seemed oblivious to Aragorn's face and stood up and started walking away. Estel quickly followed suit. He was excited about this opportunity to get to know where he came from.

"You ever gone hunting before?" asked Siriband as they walked out the door.

"Yes, with…" but Aragorn stopped. Should he tell this man about his living in Rivendell? Should he tell him of Lord Elrond's kindness of adopting him and treating him as a son for so many years? He decided not to.

"With whom?" asked Siriband.

"My mother," said Aragorn. He realized it was generally known his mother brought him to Rivendell, so he decided to use her.

"Really? Your mother? Where has she been all these years?" asked Siriband.

'Lie,' Aragorn's instincts told him. "We've been traveling almost everywhere these years. Mostly in the north around the Shire, and Bree." 'Change the subject,' said his instincts. "What about you? What have you been doing these past few years?"

"The same as you and your mother, only I have been traveling from here to a little further south," said Siriband, "and because of that, I am surprised that your mother traveled in the wild with a child for so long."

"She has more strength than you know of!" said Aragorn sharply.

"Apparently. To be undetected for this long," said Siriband in a very low voice. Aragorn had a feeling he wasn't supposed to hear that.

Siriband was thinking too. This boy was smart, and he had a feeling that Isildur's heir was not telling the entire truth. But no matter, his employer would get the answers he desired soon enough. He had his ways, and the "ranger" could hardly suppress a shiver when he thought about what was in store for this boy.

Estel, meanwhile, was having a good time. He had felled two small birds and a stag by the end of the day. Siriband seemed to be deep in thought during this time, so Aragorn decided it was better not to speak. Oh well! To be spending this much time, to be treated as an equal, a man, was invigorating. He was enjoying this.

Aragorn had, however, noticed that they kept traveling south. Why was that? Didn't the rangers stay towards the north? Maybe Siriband just was not paying attention to the direction? 'No matter!' Estel reasoned with himself, he would just enjoy his time out here and bring it up when they made camp.

Camp came seemingly a short time later. Siriband laid out his bag, and Aragorn watched him and did likewise. Then he decided to bring up the topic as he skinned his stag.

"Siriband? Why are we going south? Shouldn't we be staying in the north?" asked Estel.

Siriband did the last thing the boy expected. He laughed. "Aragorn, Arathorn's son, you have much to learn about animals of this area. Yes, our duties are to the north, but right now, the hunting is much better south, close to the Misty Mountains. We will turn around in about," he started counting on his fingers, "three days. You can keep up that long, can't you, Aragorn?"

"Of course!" said Estel a little too quickly.

"Well then there's nothing to worry about!" said the older man happily.

Supper went by uneventful, the same as breakfast. Again, Siriband was examining Aragorn. This time, he was looking at the boy's eyes. Estel couldn't think of the right word. It was not testing, or as much examining as breakfast had been. Searching. 'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'that is it.' Siriband was searching for something.

"You sleep," said Siriband after supper was finished, "I'll take first watch."

Somewhere deep inside, Aragorn resisted, but he was tired and too willing to go to sleep. "Alright," said Estel, "wake me up soon." When Siriband nodded, Estel crawled in his bag and fell fast asleep.

Part 5: The Dream

He dreamed he was little. He was about two. His mother was adoring over him, and his father? Was this his father? He looked so kind, so loving! His heart ached immediately and he had no desire to wake up.

Then Aragorn could hear. "Sir, there's an attack!" said a man. Then, immediately, he fell. There was a sword sticking out of his chest.

Arathorn took action immediately. He looked out of the tent and paled immediately. "Gilraen," he said, "he is here. We have been discovered!" Arathorn pulled the ring off and gave it to Aragorn. He also grabbed a bundle and handed it to Gilraen. "Quick. Run! Take Aragorn, don't let them see you!" Aragorn saw his father bend over and could feel the ghost of a kiss on his cheek.

Then the tent burst open, and Aragorn knew who it was. He had only heard about him in text books in Rivendell. It was the Witch-king himself, coming in for the kill. Arathorn immediately stood up and unsheathed his sword.

"Fool!" hissed the Witch-king. Then another man walked in the tent. It was Siriband! What was he doing here? Was he… "Well done, my servant," the wraith said to him. No, it was impossible!

"Run! RUN!" screamed Arathorn in desperation. Aragorn's heart ached, and tried to jump out of his crib and help his father, but was stuck in the crib by his two-year-old body in the dream.

The Witch-king grabbed Arathorn my the neck and held him up. "You will watch this," he hissed and turned the choking man toward the crib. Siriband unsheathed his sword and walked over to the crib. Aragorn reached at his side for his sword, but he was a baby in this nightmare, and had none. The man he had called his friend raised, the sword, was ready for the kill, but something stopped him. He too screamed in pain. There was a sword sticking in his arm and suddenly a boot slammed him to the ground. Aragorn recognized his mother picking the him up.

But then his vantage point changed. He was now watching this as himself, now, as a sixteen year old boy. But he still couldn't move. He couldn't help his dying father or his mother escaping with his two-year-old self. Tears streamed his mother's eyes as she fled the tent. The Witch-king didn't follow, but became intent on Arathorn.

"You think you have won, have you?" the terror spat out. He hurled Arathorn to the ground and stepped on his chest. Aragorn could hear crunching of bones and his father's moan of pain. But the Witch-king was not going to let him die that easily. The wraith picked up the man again, and held him by the neck. He produced a small dagger from his cloak raised it.

"NOOOOOOOO!" cried Aragorn as the Witch-king proceeded to stab his father several times. Then, after a few minutes, Arathorn's bloody form went limp and the Witch-king dropped him like a bag of potatoes.

The wraith turned to the form of Siriband and held him the same way he held Arathorn. "You fool! You let them escape! You let the woman and child escape!" and he held the dagger high.

"No! Wait! I can still find them, they can't be far!" cried Siriband desperately. "Please, give me another chance! I will not fail!"

The Witch-king hesitated, and put the man down. He held up one finger. "One more chance. You are lucky to get this pardon. Do not expect it again. The wraith gave him a vile. "That if for the wound you were foolish enough to get." Then he handed the man a black globe.

"A palantír?" Siriband.

"No fool! A duophone. The one you just received can only connect to and will only respond to the one I hold now in Minas Morgul. Grasp it and say 'I call for the Lord of Angmar' and I will respond when I may. Do not use it until you have found the child! And do not let me see your face until that day! If I do, you will die as a traitor!" he said motioning to Arathorn's corpse.

Siriband bowed. "Yes, master, thank you!"

Suddenly, the world faded, and it was all black. Except for Arathorn's body. But something began to happen to that too. The wounds disappeared and he began to glow. Then, the dead man stood up, opened his eyes, turned to Aragorn, and smiled. "You have grown, my son, since last I saw you."

"Father?" said Estel, whipping the tears from his eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No," said Arathorn quickly, and gave the boy a hug.

"But then…" started Aragorn.

"No, Aragorn, you must listen. There is not much longer. What you have just seen really happened. Siriband is not a ranger, as he told you. He is a servant to the Witch-king. He has been searching for you for the past fourteen years, and now plans to betray you. You must run. If the Witch-king catches you, I doubt he will grant you as merciful a death as he granted me."

"Merciful?" cried Estel, "Father, he stabbed you several times! He.…"

"Nothing compared to what he wanted to do. Aragorn, listen, the Witch-king is a master in torture. I'd think you would know that from Lord Elrond's study! He only killed me as quickly because he was in a rush. But with you, there would be no worry! He would hurt you routinely every day until you failed to amuse him anymore."

Aragorn felt the blood leave his cheeks. "But father…."

"Wake up, Aragorn. Run! WAKE UP, ARAGORN! RUN!…."

Aragorn popped up. He was back in the woods. He whipped the sweat off his brow and lay back down. It was just a dream… but then he heard voices.

"Yes, master," said Siriband, "I have him."

"Are you certain?" said another, more chilly voice. Aragorn had heard it before, but only in his dream. It was the Witch-king.

"Yes, he has proclaimed it in the bar of Scenesville, and he wears the ring of Barahir openly on his finger."

"Very good," said the Witch-king. "You have regained my trust. Restrain him, make sure he does not go anywhere. I will be there in two days."

Part 6: Why?

Aragorn immediately turned his head and tried to restrain his breathing. This could not be happing. It was impossible! But he could still hear Siriband talking to the wraith by his globe. Should he try to get away now? Should he wait and just try to sneak away? How could he get help? Aragorn knew he could not do this alone.

Aragorn turned his head again and opened one eye. Siriband was walking toward him. There was rope and cloth in his hand. Siriband was not going to waste any time carrying through his master's orders. Aragorn knew now it was either fight, or die.

When Siriband got close enough, the boy made his first move. His fist came out of nowhere and collided with Siriband's nose. Then Aragorn quickly stood up and kneed the man in the gut. The older man fell down and Aragorn didn't waste any time getting his weapons. He ran.

Living with elves had many advantages and disadvantages. One was that Aragorn could run very fast, faster than most men. In an effort to keep up with his brothers whenever they went hunting, Estel sprinted a mile everyday. He knew he could outrun this man for long enough to get some help unless….

Suddenly the ground began to approach Estel quickly. He hit with a thud and his entire front was dirty and he began to ache. Aragorn tried to get up and run again, but his foot was caught on a root again. He started to crawl and finally got to his feet, but the stall was enough. He felt Siriband's body slam into his own. The struggle was brief. Estel was aching and caught off guard. In a matter of moments, Estel was bound, gagged, and being dragged back to the campsite.

Siriband was furious, and Aragorn figured he knew why. The boy had almost escaped him. Again. If Aragorn's dream was really a repetition of the past, Estel's escape would have meant Siriband's death. One look in Siriband's eyes told Aragorn that he was right.

Siriband forced Estel into a standing position and tied him against a tree and removed the gag. He turned around, but suddenly slapped the boy hard in the face. Then he punched him in the stomach. Estel quickly drew breath in surprise.

"That was for trying to get away," said the older man coldly. "You see, if I fail to bring you to my master, I am a dead man."

"Like my father," Aragorn spat out.

Siriband turned to him, and to Estel's shock, smiled. "Yes, exactly like that. I assume you know your own history now. Your mother," he spat out, "has taught you well I guess. But not well enough," with that he brought out a whip.

"What are you doing?" demanded Estel.

"Your mother and you caused me a great deal of embarrassment. You say she dwells around Bree? She shouldn't be too hard to find." There was a sound of cut air and a sudden pain. Estel screamed out. "Yes, I think your precious ring soaked in your blood will do fine."

"Why?" cried Estel.

"Because of your blasted mother, I was nearly killed. _I_ nearly got murdered after the greatest service I have ever given my master."

"Why do you serve him?" asked Estel. "He is a monster! And you should know how loyal he is! He would as soon kill someone who has served him greatly for messing up no matter what! He is evil! That…."

Aragorn felt the whip bite his flesh again. But this time, he held his lips. He wouldn't scream, he thought. He wouldn't give his enemy any more pleasure than he was already getting.

"You _dare_ insult my master! You insult the Witch-king of Angmar himself?" He gave a crazed smile. "I will have to tell him this. Your fate will only be worse than already if you don't use your brain." Here he hit Aragorn hard in the forehead.

"But why do you serve him! You don't have to! You had a chance to run after my father died…."

"But I don't. He would know. He has ways of learning many things."

"But why did you serve such a master in the fist place? By choice?"

The question earned Aragorn another smack in the face, but the young man had braced himself for it. "It is wise, boy, to side yourself with the side that is not going to be defeated."

"Defeated?" asked Estel. "But Sauron's gone! He's never coming back! Your master is on his own, now, and there has to be someone out there strong enough to defeat him!"

"That's what you think," said Siriband, "but my master believes the Dark Lord," Aragorn shivered at the way he said this, "will return. And when he does, he will be most interested to meet you. My master will be pleased enough, but if the Dark Lord were to return, he would be thrilled. He would finally have revenge."

"ON WHAT! WHAT HAVE I DONE?" Estel screamed.

Siriband whipped him quickly, and picked up the gag. "Your ancestor stole something very valuable from him. Something that gave him life, somehow. So, you see, for taking away his only source of happiness and life, he would take away yours. It's an even trade, you see."

Aragorn began to shake. He had not realized at first why his foster father was so protective about his heritage being known to other men. Now he knew why. Now, he was going to die a horrible death because of his stupidity. He felt so little. He had not deserved to learn about his heritage. He could not even keep it safe.

"NOOOO!" he screamed. That was all he could do now: scream and hope somebody could hear him and come to the rescue. "NO! NO! NO! STOP!" He saw Siriband approach him with the gag. "NO! DON'T! HELP! HELP!" Then his voice was stopped by cloth in his mouth and a punch in the gut.

Part 7: The Attempt at Rescue

Elrohir stopped suddenly. He had heard something off in the distance. Something that no human ears could pick up, but his sharpened elven senses could. Elladan noticed his brother's delay and stopped at once.

"Elrohir?" he asked, but his twin's hand shot up, motioning him to be quiet. Elladan listened to his brother, and then stayed absolutely still. He could hear it too.

"No! Stop! Don't! Help!" said a muffled voice. It was a man.

"We must go help him!" said Elrohir. "That person is in trouble. It could be orcs!"

"Nonsense, there have not been concentrations of orcs here since… well since Estel came to us. Besides, ada told us to track Estel."

"But that man could be in mortal danger! And," here Elrohir grew silent, "what if it is Estel?"

"It couldn't be," said Elladan, "Estel knows how to take care of himself. We will make our decision in the morning."

Aragorn woke up, and was almost shocked when he felt his back secured to a tree. Then he remembered what had happened last night. He had hoped that, somehow, it was all one big nightmare. But here he was, gag in mouth, bound to a tree, with Siriband watching him. Estel looked nervously at the whip in his hand.

He had to get loose! He just had to! He couldn't die like this…. He couldn't die without seeing his mother again. And Lord Elrond. Aragorn realized exactly how wise Lord Elrond actually was. He had taken a boy with no future as his son, and had raised him not knowing her heritage. He remembered every time he had wanted to go outside the borders of Rivendell as a child, but the elven lord had refused. Was this because he knew the Witch-king had scouts like Siriband looking for a boy who could be the heir of Isildur? Suddenly, every questionable decision of his adopted father made sense.

But these bonds, he had to get out of these bonds if he wanted any chance of living to see tomorrow's sun. Aragorn bent backwards reaching into his boot where he kept a concealed knife in a hidden pocket. Unfortunately, Siriband noticed this, and whipped him.

"You think you're gonna get away? Do ya?" he smiled and walked over to the boy and took off his boots. To Aragorn's dismay, he ripped off the boot, found the knife, and took it out.

"Funny. This small knife has the crest of Elendil. Interesting that you would have it, Aragorn," he spat out. "It kind of reminds me of a game, you know. The object is to hit the targets." While Siriband was talking, he was walking over to Estel and tying the boy's hands to branches on the tree, forcing Aragorn into a standing position. "Unfortunately, I am very bad at this game, but I am getting bored sitting here watching you."

Aragorn wanted badly to challenge the man to a wrestling match, but couldn't because of the gag. But soon fear petrified him as he realized what was going on. Siriband was marking targets next to his head, waist, and in between his calves.

"I hope for your sake I actually hit the targets this time," said Siriband, "of course you will not die if I miss one, but it might hurt a little."

Aragorn closed his eyes and prayed as he felt the vibration of the knife hitting the tree centimeters from his thigh.

The Witch-king looked down on the forest ground. If he could feel joy, he would. But he could feel the excitement of the hunt. Finally, after all these years, he would crush the line of kings. His slave had found that last one, only a boy right now. But no matter, the Witch-king doubted the young heir would reach manhood with what he had planned. His slave entertaining the prisoner would be in for a surprise though. Lord Sauron sent the Witch-king a flying steed, which arrived only the day before. He would arrive at their pitiful little camp in a few hours.

Aragorn would not cry out. He would not! He would not! He would not! It didn't matter how much his arm hurt, he would not give a whimper of pain. He would not give Siriband any more satisfaction than he had already.

Siriband was much better than he let Aragorn on to. He hit every single target, except the one above his left arm, which cut through the top of the skin. Aragorn decided that the purpose on ranting about always missing was just to scare him. It was physiological, and a little physical.

Siriband cut the ropes on Estel's arms and retied them to the back of the tree. He accidentally loosened Aragorn's gag and it fell from his mouth. Estel wanted to cry out loud, but Aragorn resisted. He had to wait for Siriband to get further away, so his shouts had a better chance of being detected. He waited, waited, and waited, and finally Siriband sat down.

"HELP! HELP! KIDNAPPERS! KIDNAPPERS! HELP! PLEASE! HELP! PLEASE HELP!" he cried.

Siriband was on his feet in a minute and quickly shoved the gag into Aragorn's mouth.

"Why you little…" he cried out and grabbed the whip and continuously beat Estel. Aragorn could barely keep from crying out. "Tough boy, eh?" asked Siriband mockingly. Aragorn looked into his eyes. They were mad. Simply mad. "I do not know what this is," he said carrying a bottle, "I only know the orcs use it when they play with their prisoners. Let's see if it works the way they promised." With that he poured the black oozing liquid on Estel's arm wound. This time, the boy could not hold it in. He screamed.

But suddenly Siriband too screamed and stumbled forward, and tough but gentle hands removed the body off of Aragorn's. He felt himself slipping out of consciousness.

In a few minutes, Estel woke up by water on his face. He coughed and looked up. It was not the face of Siriband, whom he'd come to dread, but the face of his brothers. He felt so young and began to cry and hug the twins.

"What happened?" asked Elrohir.

"Why did he do this to you?" asked Elladan.

It didn't occur to Estel that they guessed the answer already. "I… I… I told him about… who I am. I didn't… tell him… I only said it in the bar…."

"You what?" exclaimed both the twins at the same time.

"I said it…. And he heard me…. He said he was a ranger and I… and I…" but Estel couldn't bear to say anymore.

"It's alright," said Elladan.

"The important thing now is that you're safe," said Elrohir.

"And that we get you to ada immediately."

"You do not look so good."

Suddenly Aragorn remembered the dream he had which had revealed to him that Siriband was a traitor. He was not alone. He was not even completely doing this for himself. He was doing it for…

"Witch-king," said Aragorn, "He was working for a ringwraith. The Witch-king will be here tomorrow. We have to leave, now!"

The twins paled and helped the boy up. They quickly started walking away from the camp, when Elrohir suddenly stopped. He motioned for Elladan and Estel to be silent. Aragorn was scared. What was going on the frightened his brother like this?

"He is not coming tomorrow," said Elrohir slowly.

Then Aragorn heard it too. A blood-curdling screech. "It's here for me," he said painfully.

"Well it will not get you," said Elladan firmly. "Run!"

"Don't look back! Put your hood on!" cried Elrohir.

Aragorn didn't argue. He started sprinting away, but after about five minutes, his back began to hurt really bad. He was finally able to feel the effects of his experience from the past few days. But he couldn't stop, Aragorn told himself, he had to keep running!

But he just could not loose this foe. The Witch-king could not land because of the tree formation, but Aragorn could feel cold eyes piercing him. It made him shiver. But as he looked up ahead, the boy knew his luck was running out. He had to keep running, but soon the trees would be clear enough for the foul beast to land. Elladan and Elrohir were planning something, he knew that much. But it had better be soon.

Aragorn knew it could not end this way. He knew who he was, and he knew what that meant. He could help people someday. Right now, being the youngest king in the history of Gondor never crossed his mind, but he could help so many people. Gondor was doing alright for now, so he'd leave it be. But someday, Gondor would need a leader. They would need him, or any children he could have. He could not let his own stupidity to throw this away.

When Aragorn looked up again, he saw, to his horror, the trees were to a minimum. The foul beast was getting closer and closer! Thinking of the people who's lives would someday depend on him, Aragorn increased his speed. Soon the creature was so close he could see the sharp talons glimmering in the sun. There was nothing for it. Aragorn dove to the ground and rolled away. But not before he felt a rip on his sides and a warm liquid spilling from the new wounds.

"Give up… human!" the creature spit out.

Aragorn just kept running. It was useless, but his brothers told him to. Besides, at this point, there was no harm it could do.

"Your fate will be much… gentler… if you submit now!" screamed the wraith.

Something told Aragorn not to speak, but to keep running.

Then came the scream. A high-pitch inhuman screech. Aragorn covered his ears, but kept running. He couldn't hear the Witch-king's voice anymore, only the screams and another strange sound he couldn't make out.

'Here it comes,' he thought, 'in a minute that beast will grip you in its claws and take you away to hell on Middle Earth. You were so stupid, Aragorn! Your damn pride! You didn't use your brain, and now you are paying for it!'

But the claws surrounding his body never came. Instead, he saw his brothers catch up to him. Aragorn stopped when they motioned him to.

"It is alright, Estel," said Elrohir.

"We stopped him," said Elladan.

"Set fire to his robes."

"It is the one thing he fears."

"He will not come after you for awhile."

Aragorn suddenly felt exhausted and collapsed. Elladan caught him.

"Come on, little brother, it is time to take you home," he said softly in elvish.

Part 8: Healing

Gilraen opened the door to her son's bed chambers. He was sitting on his window seat again, thinking. He had been doing that a lot since his return. She had heard the full story, and the confession to showing off, but she had forgiven him because he was safe, and, while the enemy knew he existed, they did not know exactly where he was.

But something was different about him now. His wounds were healed, although Gilraen was never allowed to see them (Lord Elrond said it would break her heart). But when she looked in his eyes, the youthful innocence was gone. But why? He was still so young.

"My son, what troubles you so?" she asked.

He looked at her and smiled. "Hello, mother."

That was the reply she had gotten every time she had asked him in the last month. But now, she was not going to take it. Her heart ached for him, wanted for him to put his burden on her. "But you did not answer my question, Aragorn."

Immediately the boy stood up and placed something in her hands. It was the ring of Barahir.

"But…" she started.

"No, mother. I do not deserve this," he said.

"Yes you do, my son."

"NO I DON'T!" he exclaimed. Gilraen knew something was hurting her child.

"Why do you think you are not worthy of your heritage, Aragorn?" she asked.

"I was stupid with it. I thought it was amazing to be the son of a king, heir to the noble kingdom of…. But I told everyone. I nearly got myself killed! If I died, there could never be a king of Gondor if she ever needed one." He looked his mother in the eye. "Lord Elrond told me because he thought I was grown up enough. He thought I was mature enough to handle it now. But he was wrong. I am still too young for this. I am still… a child."

Gilraen held her son tight. "Oh, Aragorn, if only you could see!"

"See what? There is nothing to see."

"But you have grown up so much in the past couple of months! Some things people learn by other people telling them. Others must be learned from experience. You have just learned a very difficult, but a good lesson from this. And now, you are not thinking of yourself. You are thinking of using your gift for others."

"What do you mean?" asked Aragorn.

"Before you left, you wanted to go and become king overnight." Here Aragorn opened his mouth in shock, but Gilraen said, "Don't ask me how I know. I'm your mother, I know everything. But now you are thinking about the people. You said that they might not need a king right now. You are thinking of their needs, not your desires.

"And now you know exactly how delicate this secret of your is. I assume you will not be telling people so freely again, right?" Aragorn shook his head. "Good. In the meantime, keep this," she said, giving him back the ring of Barahir, "Your father would want you to."

Aragorn took the ring and then looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, mother."

"I forgive you, Aragorn. It will be all right."

Aragorn walked down the halls of Rivendell thinking about what his mother had told him. The ring of Barahir was in his pocket where, in his opinion, it belonged. Maybe when he put this experience behind him a little better he would wear it, but only in Rivendell. Here, he was Estel, maybe even Aragorn sometimes. Out there… he didn't know who he'd be yet.

But suddenly he heard the roar of water and saw darkness. He lifted the bucket off his head, his clothes soaking wet. Aragorn turned as he heard a snigger to the side. It was Elladan. But he soon saw both of the twin brothers rolling on the floor laughing.

"I'll get you two for this!" he cried.

"I don't think so!" they replied back at the same time.

The chase began. Aragorn smiled. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe sometimes, you just had experiences that you had to learn what you could from and put them behind you. Every step felt like he was running away from his burdens. Maybe he had matured during that journey. But he didn't feel like being grown-up, at least not right now. Planning revenge on the two elves who had recently soaked him in the doorway sounded like too much fun right now.

The End

THE END


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